


an unusual faithfulness

by scytherion



Series: mcrn lovemail 24/7 [2]
Category: BanG Dream! (Anime), BanG Dream! Girl's Band Party! (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Childhood Memories, F/F, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, Height Differences, alright that's enough tags i guess, also moca makes such a stupid joke i'm almost proud, alternative title: ran is a useless disaster who puts everything off and moca's trying her best, anyway i lov them what else is new, guess who's been writing this at 2am for like a month, more mcrn lovemail i guess, ran's a baby and that's just how it be in this bitch of a world sometimes, the height fic i needed in my life okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 20:34:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16103300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scytherion/pseuds/scytherion
Summary: Obviously, there’s no real rationale. What, the day she inches above, she cups Moca’s cheeks and presses her lips to Moca’s in one fluid, passionate motion? She instantly becomes ten times more suave and a hundred times braver?(A hundred times zero is still zero! A decidedly Himari-esque voice chimes in her head, high, sharp and teasing, and Ran immediately stomps down and shuts it up.)**In which Ran makes a promise to herself she'd confess when she becomes taller than Moca. Or makes an excuse. It's hard to tell.





	an unusual faithfulness

Tiny feet patter on the wooden flooring, racing to the other end of the house. Ran stands up straight, not even waiting to catch her breath, before snapping her head up and looking expectantly at Tomoe, who wearily uncaps the marker with a _‘pop’._

 

Moca tries to tiptoe, but not without Tsugumi scolding her, pushing her shoulder down with all her tiny lesbian might. Moca’s weak calf muscles give way, and Moca grumble-whines before giving up.

 

Ran digs her sunburned elbow into Moca’s side. Moca’s protests get louder as Ran huffs. That’s what she gets for trying to cheat. Serves her right.

 

Making both girls stand still against Moca’s bed frame, Tomoe carefully makes two small horizontal lines on the wall of Moca’s bedroom, above all the little black lines they’ve since accumulated across the years, and both Himari and Tsugumi crowd around to get a glimpse.

 

“Ran’s taller, so she’s right!” Himari crows. “Moca, repeat after me- You can’t live on bread alone~”

 

Moca glowers, before folding her arms behind her head. “ _You_ can’t live on bread alone~ The great Moca-chan can~”

 

Ran, who had been looking extremely triumphant, scowled. “No you can’t. You need.. uh.. those,” Ran cocks her head and thinks hard. “Those. Those.. Kar-boh-hi-drates. Thingies.” She finishes, enunciating slowly while seeking confirmation from Tsugumi, who nods encouragingly.

 

“Try again~ Moca-chan already knows bread is a... a karby-hi-drake. Or whatever.”

 

Tomoe pinches the bridge of her nose. “C’mon guys… The whole point was to resolve this, Ran was taller so now you have to admit that she’s right...”

 

“This is rigged… We all know Ran is second tallest anyway. Hii-chan, you suck!” Moca points an accusing finger as Himari gasps, hurt.

 

“Well, _maybe_ you should have thought about that before agreeing to it!”

 

Tsugumi’s smile becomes more and more forced the longer they bicker, and it isn’t long till Moca’s mama kicks them out of the house for being too noisy.

 

(Moca ends up winning anyway, by bending the rules till they're all confused, and they eventually admit defeat as she folds her arms and puffs her chest out in triumph. As she always did.)

 

* * *

 

Now that Ran thinks about it, they’ve always compared heights as kids. Tomoe, always being the tallest, saddled with the duty as “Guardian of the Inky Doodle”, as Moca so aptly put it. Which basically meant Tomoe was the only one tall enough to properly mark out their heights against the bedpost. Ran was always second tallest, followed by Moca, then Himari, then Tsugumi. That’s just how Ran always assumed it would be.

 

Yet somehow, some way, perhaps when they were far too occupied marvelling at Tomoe, who was shooting up like a tree, Moca had inched her way past Ran like a tiny weed. It’s awfully easy to miss, with Moca’s downright atrocious posture, and other far more distracting things, like her easy grin, and the crumbs on her face that make Ran’s fingers itch with the urge to brush them away.

 

But Ran notices one day, the way how their eyes are off tandem, the way that Moca’s seem to line up more with her own narrow eyebrows, the way she has to tilt her neck up slightly - and oh, _oh,_ there’s something different, miniscule yet immeasurably, inexplicably significant. There’s just _something_ in the way that Moca grins as she looks down ever so slightly at Ran, the slight cock of her head and ridiculously messy, impossibly soft hair, that sends sparks travelling through her body, making Ran’s fingertips tingle and ache, and Ran’s filled with the dumb urge to cry. Something so familiar, yet so new - it fills Ran with all sorts of emotions, jumbling up and mixing in the pits of her stomach and making her light headed.

 

As the orange streaks of sunset warm Moca’s hair, making her positively glow whilst the corners of her eyes twinkle - Ran’s heart pings softly, tapping against her ribcage insistently, and she realises something.

 

Perhaps much in the same way, somehow, subconsciously, Ran’s fallen for her best friend. She’s tripped, landed on her face, scraped her knees on the rough pavement just like how she used to when they were five, except Tsugumi isn’t there to patch up her wounds anymore. She’d gotten pretty used to tumbling down, always scrambled back up to chase after the rest of them while blinking away the tears.

 

Yet now, she doesn’t know how to get up, so Ran does what she can. She blinks away the tears, and waits.

 

* * *

 

 

So maybe that realisation was a long time coming, because Ran can’t pinpoint an exact point in time that she fell. According to Tsugumi’s shoujo manga, falling in love is like being thrown in an ocean. Suddenly everything is foreign, you can’t breathe and your life is changed in that split second you feel the water splash as you hit impact.

 

For Ran, it’s pretty much the opposite. Falling in love with _Moca,_ if Ran had to put a finger on it, is like slowly submerging yourself in a hot tub. Around Moca, she can breathe a little easier, unclench her jaw, let her shoulders fall and truly unwind, even if it’s just a little. Everything about Moca is familiar. She knows that back profile, knows her slouch, knows the way her lips quirk up in that particularly insufferable grin, knows what kind of bread she’s craving before she says it, knows every change of her emotions like the back of her hand.

 

And that’s why, Ran knows for certain, there’s no way Moca could like her back.

 

Moca’s heart doesn’t stutter the way Ran’s does when they’re lying close together, sharing a one-person bean bag. Moca doesn’t hesitate to drape all over her like wet spaghetti, unlike the way Ran’s fingers twitch traitorously, conflicted between the fear of seeming too affectionate and the innate desire to fix her hair. Moca easily takes her hand, nuzzles it and murmurs happy contented noises, paying no heed to her own irregular pulse. Moca treats her “the same as always”, and for once, Ran almost _wishes_ that she wouldn’t.

 

* * *

 

Honestly, Ran knows she should probably confess. It’s getting downright ridiculous, the way her breath seizes when Moca says her name in that charming, lilting tone, or the way her eyes find themselves inexplicably drawn to Moca’s hand swinging loosely beside her own as they walk home, shoulders bumping. Plus, there’s practically zero risk. She knows Moca would never judge her, and their relationship’s been so unshakeable for years a little crush would hardly get in the way.

 

Or at least, that’s what Tsugumi swears by. Ran doesn’t trust it for even a _second_. She’s a coward, okay? She knows that. She knows she’s afraid, knows she doesn’t want to face it, knows she would rather spend her life comfortably as it is right now, watch Moca date some other girl, and wish her luck on her wedding day, than ever screw up what beautiful bond they have right now.

 

Yet there’s a dumb, hopeful part of her, a niggling thought in her brain that refuses to let go, the part that tells her to spit it out and lay it to rest, instead of letting it fester in her stomach like a seed, to become a white, round melon only to finally roll out when they cut her corpse open.

 

She looks at Moca again, takes in her familiar scent, memorises her voice, gazes at the hair she so badly wants to run her fingers through. Moca momentarily stands up straight to readjust her bag straps, and Ran feels the breath in lungs rush out with a _whoosh,_ before Moca slumps back down again in her usual posture.

 

Beat.

 

Suddenly, that dumb, hopeful thought pipes up. It plants an idea in her head, almost a _deal,_ if you will. A stupid, foolish deal she really shouldn’t take, but Ran’s not known for her best decisions.

 

_I’ll confess when - when, not if - I become taller than Moca again._

 

Obviously, there’s no real rationale. What, the day she inches above, she cups Moca’s cheeks and presses her lips to Moca’s in one fluid, passionate motion? She instantly becomes ten times more suave and a hundred times braver?

 

( _A hundred times zero is still zero!_ A decidedly Himari-esque voice chimes in her head, high, sharp and teasing, and Ran immediately stomps down and shuts it up.)

 

Ran knows it’s pretty dumb, if Tomoe’s pitying look is anything to go off from, but at the very least it's a tangible decision, a definite point of time in the future when she’ll have to face her reckoning and finally fess up. And so, just like that, she’s made a promise to herself. One she doesn’t necessarily have to keep, yet she does so anyway.

 

* * *

 

Moca squawks, stumbling forward at the quick prod on the small of her back, arms pinwheeling to regain her balance. “Raaaaan~ What was that for…” She pouts and whines dramatically, jacket flapping as she whirls around.

 

“Stand up straight, dummy.” Ran frowns, paying Moca’s questioning glance no heed as she steps closer, staring with white-hot intensity as she looks up ( _up_ , it’s still so foreign) into Moca’s eyes.

 

Moca laughs nervously, high, quavery and airy. “Eh? Ran? You feelin’ okay?” Ran reaches out to grasp her wrist when Moca kind of starts backing away cautiously, shoes scuffing against the sunbaked pavement. She needs to stay still!

 

Raising her left arm, she flattens her palm, making it parallel to the ground, squinting as she carefully matches her own height to Moca’s.

 

Moca blinks, and Ran huffs in discontentment. Barely a centimetre. An unexpected pang of disappointment shoots up, and Ran tells herself it’s because of her pride, and not because she wants to spit her feelings out anytime soon. That would be ridiculous.

 

Moca places her hands on her hips, having caught on, lips quirking up in a smirk. “Hehe~ Still taller~ Look Ran, you’re so shooort~”

 

Ran makes a grumbly annoyed sound, her protests of “It isn’t even that big of a difference…” falling on deaf ears as Moca tiptoes, guitar case on her back swinging dangerously as she teeters, yet it feels as if Ran’s the one losing balance. She rests an elbow on Ran’s shoulder, craning her neck high to make their height difference more pronounced. She wobbles dangerously for a moment, before steadying.

 

“Vogue,” she announces proudly. Ran sighs.

 

“You’re gonna fall, idiot.”

 

“Not if I hold on tight~” Moca makes an exaggerated kissy face, pursing her lips together and screwing her eyes closed to contort her face. “You’re my rock, Ran~ You’ll catch me if I fall~ The light of my life~ Whoa~~”

 

She pauses.

 

“Holy shit. Ran.” She covers her mouth like she’s just thought of the cure to cancer, sleepy eyes widening. “Someone to lean on _and_ you light up my life…”

 

“You’re like… my lamp post. Holy shit.”

 

Ran feels the corners of her mouth twitching upwards, heart fluttering like a ridiculous schoolgirl at being likened to a _street light._

 

“You mean if _we_ fall. You’re going to drag us both down and hurt yourself.”

 

“Ran cares so much about my wellbeing~!” Moca purrs, teeth flashing.

 

“Well, that goes without saying,” Ran blurts out, before slapping a hand over her mouth, ears burning.

 

“Uh—That is- I mean… O-obviously, since you mean so much to me—”

 

Moca’s grin only widens as Ran tries to control the word vomit, threatening to split her face in half. It’s far too late now. She’ll never let Ran live this down.

 

“Oh~ Lil’ ol’ Moca-chan’s _sooo_ special to Ran huh~ The most important person~ Lucky me~”

 

“Uh,” Ran coughs, and pauses a second too long. “...Yeah.” She scuffs her worn out shoe toe against the pavement, and her cheeks burn hotly.

 

Another blink. Ran swears she could see the cartoon star bounce off Moca’s head with a _dink!,_ and finds herself wishing she could melt into the sidewalk right about now.

 

“Oh. Oh, uh… nice,” Moca chokes out, and Ran doesn’t dare open her big fat mouth again until they go their separate ways and she buries her face in her pillow.

 

* * *

 

 

The days pass in this same fashion. It becomes almost routine for Ran to make Moca stand straight, casually standing close enough brush shoulders, and frown in dissatisfaction at her apparent lack of growth as Moca fidgets. Either she isn’t growing at all, or Moca has been _coincidentally_ growing at the same rate as her, purposely denying her that sweet closure. Obviously the very notion should be ludicrous, but at this point Ran figures that would almost be on-brand for Moca, with how often she teases her or messes her hair or tries to get a rise out of her. It’s just the exact thing Moca’d do if she actually had control over her height, just so she could catch a glimpse of Ran’s irritable, grumpy face.

 

And so it goes on. She checks their heights, lets slip something embarrassing in her panic, blinded and confused by the way Moca shakes her fringe out of her eyes, or how her shirt drapes her lithe frame, or tiny things like always keeping a spare pick in her pockets for Ran. Rinse and repeat. Easy. Simple.

 

And Ran, like the coward she is, refuses to unknot the mess in her chest, refuses to spill her feelings. Because somewhere along the way, her ‘promise’ became an ‘excuse’, one that she’s all too glad to have, letting her emotions stagnate and boil over. And Ran finds herself thinking that maybe, just maybe, it’d be alright if Moca stays taller than her for forever. Life wouldn’t be so bad. Just that Ran’ll have to live with Tsugumi’s disapproving look until she dies, but that’s a risk she’s willing to take, probably.

 

Ran finds that ever since this whole ‘realising you have the worst crush on your best friend’ thing started, her internal monologue’s been filled with a lot more ‘ _maybe_ ’s, ‘ _probably_ ’s and ‘ _perhaps_ ’s than it used to. God, that’s way too many adverbials of probability for her liking. Ran doesn’t like being introspective, doesn’t like mulling too much about things. She prefers just throwing caution to the wind and cutting to the chase. She prefers emptying every drop of her heart onto paper, singing it out proud to a livehouse of people ignorant to the context, feeling her blood thrum in her veins with adrenaline. Mitake Ran makes her feelings known, hot, angry and bathed in crimson, too drunk on the crowd and the lights and the stage to care about consequences, grounded solely by the sound of Moca’s guitar complementing hers, and that’s how she’s always been. How she's  _supposed_ to be.

 

It’s almost hypocritical then, that she’s this much of a pussy when it comes to Moca.

 

“—an? Raaaan? Oi~ Paging for a grumpy emo void baby, about this high, answers to ‘honey butter sweetcake hot buns’—”

 

Ran feels something warm poke her nose and startles backwards, bumping her knee against the underside of the table and nearly knocking over her mug.

 

“Oh~ Watch out there,” Moca easily steadies her mug with one hand, moving it away from the edge of the table whilst her other hand remains just in front of Ran’s face, index finger extended. “Well would ya look at that, looks like the princess is finally back with us~ Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout, how pretty your dearest Moca-chan is?”

 

“Wh— No! It was n, nothing!” Ran reaches out, grabs her mug, takes a swig too big and chokes. “J-just… blanked out. Y’know. Stared off into space…?” She offers weakly, tears pricking the corners of her eyes at the sour taste of vengeful coffee and barely veiled fear.

 

Moca’s eyes narrow and she bites the inside of her cheek as she stares Ran down. Ran knows that look. Moca might spout rubbish out of her mouth like a fountain, but deep inside, she’s looking for a real answer, and Ran knows that that isn’t going to cut it.

 

Moca shakes her finger at Ran, as if admonishing a small child. “No, no, Ran. Blanking out is _my_ thing, remember? You had your thinkin’ face on, the kind where you look all troubled and crease your eyebrows~ Haven’t you heard, it totally sticks that way, and you’ll be stuck with a dumb grumpy face for the rest of your life—” Without warning, both hands raise up to grab Ran’s cheeks, squishing them despite her protests. “—and Moca-chan’ll never be able to see your super pretty smile again~”

 

“Moca— Shtop—” Ran raises her own hands over Moca’s in a feeble attempt to pry Moca’s hands off her face, but Moca shakes her head, hair flopping back and forth. Instead, her face breaks into a slanting smile, one Ran isn’t used to. Moca looks at her, just her, and Ran forgets how to breathe.

 

“Hey,” Ran finds herself watching the column of Moca’s neck as she swallows thickly and squares her shoulders. “Uh. I… I know it’s chill to have your own secrets ‘n stuff, but I just don’t wanna see ya lookin hurt and bein’ distant when I don’t know what’s causin’ it, y’know? C’mon, where did my best friend privileges go?”

 

Moca’s voice cracks at the attempt to joke around, and she breaks eye contact. A moment passes, before Moca clambers to her knees, leaning over Ran’s table, scattering stationery, face stopping a breath away from hers. Ran subconsciously licks her dry lips as Moca’s breaths warm her face.

 

“What I’m saying is—” Moca stops again, scrunching her face up in exasperation, words stuck in her throat like peanut butter. She tries again.

 

“What I’m saying is I— I don’t like seeing— You’re important to me, like more important than you could ever imagine, like— More than best friends, like—” Moca groans in frustration at the hazy confusion in Ran’s eyes, and runs a hand through her own hair as she grimaces, pink tinging her cheeks.

 

Suddenly, Moca scrambles onto her table, tugging Ran’s face forward, knocking Ran’s mug over for real this time and mutters a hasty apology before crashing their lips together.

 

Lukewarm coffee seeps into Ran’s notebook and pools at Moca’s knee, making its way into the grooves of the wooden table, but that’s the least of Ran’s concerns as her brain tries to catch up to the softness of Moca’s lips and Moca’s scent which has enveloped her and the renewed heat of Moca’s palms on her cheeks and _the fact that this is happening right now._

 

Then it ends as fast as it started, Moca springing back as if burned until her shoulder blades dig into the wall, and Ran finds herself trying to catch her breath.

 

“Like— Like that,” Moca chokes out, flush creeping down to her neck, eyes darting anywhere and everywhere but Ran. “Sorry I’ll— I’ll go now, haha...” Her voice trails off, the fake grin plastered on her face waning as Moca laughs hollowly, the last remnants of her levity crumbling away into dust.

 

Ran watches wide eyed as Moca quickly starts sweeping all her books off the table and into her bag, disregarding the coffee stained notebooks as she determinedly refuses to meet Ran’s eyes. What the hell? Moca’s dreaming if she thinks Ran’s letting her escape after _that_.

 

Ran finds her body’s moving on her own, almost mirroring Moca’s actions earlier as she leans over the table, disregarding Moca’s yelp of surprise as she roughly angles Moca’s chin upwards, closing her eyes as their lips brush again, shuddering slightly at the electrifying tingles running through her fingertips and wrapping around her heart, an emotion, one she can’t quite describe, flooding through her a torrent. It makes her heart sing and her blood pump, fills her lungs with air while leaving her breathless, and for the first time in weeks Ran feels awake, feels alive, feels _right_.

 

Then her eyes flutter open again to Moca burying her face in the crook of Ran’s neck, letting out the last of the butterflies as she laughs breathily against Ran, tucking her head under her chin, soft hair tickling Ran’s nose. Her giggles sound like bells, Ran notes foggily as she brings her arms up to encircle Moca, headily breathing in her scent as her heartbeat slows.

 

In the end, that dumb little promise didn’t even matter, did it? Moca beat her to it, as she constantly did, setting her own rules, always running just ahead.

 

Yet strangely enough — Ran thinks, as she swipes a thumb over Moca’s palm, calloused from guitar yet somehow smooth — she might be more than fine with it, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! they just have a lot of love to give and ran is a weenie baby  
> please comment i feed off them for life energy ,,
> 
> (you get a prize if you figure out where this idea is from :3cc)
> 
> tumblr: @scytherion/@scythes-spaghettis  
> twt: @floopdeboop


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